Hellfire
by Durham
Summary: Vampire the Masquerade played out in an alternative timeline and reality. A newly sired band of kindred struggle to form an allegiance against a rising dark power of the Giovanni
1. Chapter 1

**Alucard** - The city in the sea

The Atlantic ocean had been receding gradually through the nineteenth century, In the early 1900's this process increased rapidly until an area of over 200 000 square miles were exposed to the air 300 miles off the coast of Spain. This stabalised area was known as the Acheron Depression due to the large land surface that had been discovered amongst what was previously underwater mountain ranges. In the 1920's the land was used by the British and Americans for oil and mineral prospecting (although the Latin countries and newly-formed North African cartels lay claim to the land as well). During the Second World War masses of refugees flooded into the area, these people were Jews, Slavs and gypsies and set up primitive colonies. After the war, when alliances between the Western and Eastern world broke down and the new 'Sovian-syndicate' replaced the previous USSR, land hungry Western corporations moved into the area, pushing the largely Slavic population South to the what was called the Dionovich plains, whilst the Westerners began the construction of 'paradise cities' such as **Arkham** and **Remas**. By far the largest of these was **Alucard** whose borders stretched a massive 16 000 square miles. Meanwhile the Sovian states provided money for the construction of **Tchalis** and **Tzilea**, Slavic cities to the South. Alucard and the western cities formed the Atlantic Union agreement which safeguarded continental trade within the region. As the ground to the South was far less prosperous, the Sovian, Eurasian and North-African governments tried to persuade the weakened Slavic cities to disrupt this system.

Despite worldwide protests at the corporate guerrilla-style warfare between the two factions, they remained at loggerheads until 1984 when, in an act of frustration the Sovian -syndicate launched over 500 independent nuclear warheads at the region. International outrage halted the attack almost immediately, but the cities of Tchalis, Arkham and the others were destroyed. No accurate reports exist of the death toll but the figure is estimated in the billions. Due to prior nuclear defence initiatives, the wealthy city of Alucard was able to survive relatively intact, even so, an estimated 11 million died, mostly from radiation sickness after what came to be known as the '**Blitz**'.

Trade from the area was now almost impossible, all essential facilities were cut off or contaminated and those who could not use the underground metro's to escape to the continent faced a slow, lingering death. Sovian offensives in the Pacific prevented large-scale international aid; Alucard was on her own.

One of Alucards' few remaining operational companies, **Hydrocon plc**., introduced a water purifying system they had been working on for several years previously. Not only could the citizens have fresh drinking water, but when all hydroelectric generators were installed they could have power as well. **Lewis Eldritch**, the Managing Director of Hydrocon was hailed as a saviour of the city.

The incentive remained strongly with Hydrocon when they took over the company **Rad-Guard**, installing their revolutionary '**Opaque**' cannons on the borders of the city. These massive machines, placed at sporadic intervals around the city borders, provide an invisible air-borne shield to halt drifting air contamination.

With the borders of all seven of Alucards remaining Sectors safe, the citizens could start the long journey back to civilisation...

_ALUCARD_ - **twelfth city of the Atlantic Union**

Alucard is located on the border of a vicinity known as the **Acheron depression**, to the North, West and Northeast it is bordered by extensive deserts. However further East the terrain and climate becomes more sub-Tundra until it reaches the vast **Acheron Mountains** (From which the **Acheron** and **Renkov **rivers both spring). In the South, Taiga forests cover a belt of land stretching across the landscape until they reach the **Dionovich plains** far South-East of Alucard.

The city, primarily Western populated, along with Arkham (SW) and Remas (E), belong to the Atlantic Union formed 28 years ago, an agreement that secured Continental trade in the region. Opposing factions to this agreement attempted to persuade the Slavic cities of the region, (Tchalis (S), Tzilea (SE)) to disrupt this system, however they remained neutral. Frustrated, the main antagonists, the North-Africa cartels, formed a pact with Eurasian military forces to form the Sovian-syndicate. Despite protests from other country's the two unions remained at loggerheads until three years after the Atlantic Union was formed, Alucard came under nuclear attack.

Due to previous months of guerrilla warfare on both sides Alucard authorities had foreseen such an attack and installed high-tech SDI emplacements and command centres. The Sovian-syndicate launched over 500 independent warheads specifically at the region.

Arkham was destroyed, but so were the neutral cities to the South, billions died.

International outrage halted the attack and despite losing over 11 million inhabitants, Alucard was saved.

However trade from the region was now out of the question, a further 3 million people were believed to have died in the months after, when all essential facilities were cut off or contaminated before aid arrived.

It is now the 21st century, and Alucard stands largely alone in the Union struggling against the poison from both outside and in. The lack of regular contact with the outside world. (Alucard citizens are subject to stringent quarantine laws if travelling) has meant that the cultures and people have become self-absorbed living out their own lives, dangerously close to anarchy.


	2. Chapter 2

**HELLFIRE **

**Elysium**- _The name given for the place where the elder vampires meet and gather._

**Protean** - _The discipline allowing a vampire to transform either her body or a part of it into something inhuman. Particularly common amongst vampires of the Gangrel Clan._

**Rotschreck**- _The vampire fear of an end to their existence, normally from sunlight or fire. It is a manic self-preserving terror._

**Sire**- _The parent-creator of a vampire, used both as the female and male form._

**pROLOGUE**

I still wonder if it is just a dream that we are all here. Perhaps some sick game played by Gods to put the human condition through the most terrifying nightmare possible.

If it is such a game then I have at least lived through most of it. It's funny how long it takes to try and drop terminology like 'lived' and 'breathe'. 'Morning' and 'love'.

But that is only the first obstacle, facing up to the fact that you are now in a completely different world. An entire world you never knew existed and you soon wish you had remained like that.

Do I mean that? It's true I have seen wonders unimaginable before my Becoming. I have also made friendships that will never fade because in the dark out there you have to hold on to all the true friends you can get.

I guess this is our story, of myself, Carmina St.Michael, Fenris of Fey and later Darren Vecna. We were normal people living our lives in the varied, colourful communities that huddled inside the frail walls of Alucard, trying to balance ourselves between a stride towards the developing hereafter and the prehistoric pit that the Holocaust brought.

Perhaps we were chosen, perhaps we were just damned, but we were suddenly dropped into the realm of the Kindred, the Camarilla and the eternal strife between the Clans. To this night I still have only fragments of the picture.

I write this near to the end, as I believe it must be. We have all reached our apex and become powerful monsters but I shall continue writing though I doubt anyone will be around to read it. So I guess I write it as a tribute to my friends, denounced heroes in this world of darkness.

My name is Marian Anastasia and I am a Vampire...

**pRELUDES**

Grant Fey watched the boy leap again through the flames. The dogs howled almost in triumph as he landed on the rusty coloured sand and stood, his body tense and lean. His tattoos spoke of the adventures to come, an inward claw marking sweeping down from his left arm pit, stopping short of his abdomen to break up in branches that confirmed his inexperienced youth.

The sun began to mist the horizon and it would soon be time to sleep and prepare the boy for tomorrow when he would leave the Gangrel homelands of Sector 7 and travel into the more inhabited areas of the city as all Grey Hunters did. But Grant was worried, Fenris was too eager to join the 'Jyhad'. He was also too pure of heart, his Becoming had been painful as it should be, but his spirit seemed unbreakable and even now Grant was afraid that Fenris' noble spirit might have him play the martyr to those who would abuse it. He had tried to teach him of the devilish ways of other vampires and that those of the Giovanni, Tremere and Setite clans could not be trusted. But he feared that his attempt had been wasted on ears that heard only the songs of the wolves and the pounding of hungry blood.

Fenris was far too headstrong for his liking. He had even commented such to the Wolf-Lord Blackmane that perhaps he might be more suited as a Blood Claw, the furious, bloodthirsty shock troops of his clan. But as he guessed the Wolf-Lord had said that it was he who had embraced the boy from a nomadic desert tribe and forever put him on the path of the Grey Hunter.

Looking over, Fenris seemed to have enclosed the fear of fire that all vampires had, to a degree where he could control the cowardly Rötschreck and not be a liability to his packmates. The boy bounded up the hill towards Grant, becoming a man as he got closer and then Kindred. He was naked and showing the recitation markings of a Gangrel vampire, but out here in these veritable wastelands ordinary mortals were few and thus it was peaceful.

Fenris bowed as he reached him, 'Sire.'

'Fenris, there is no need for that stuff, not with me.'

He stood immediately, standing a good six inches above Grant's six foot. 'I apologise, it's just that the Blood Claws do it to their own.'

'You spend too much time with those maniacs.'

Fenris looked surprised and puzzled, 'But Sire they are proud warriors.'

Grant thought of them, berserk with fury, covered with fighting knives and drooling their own blood, 'Hmm.'

They walked towards the camp, the lairs huddled around the giant banquet hall where the Wolf-Lord prepared for sleep. Fenris spoke, 'I have completed my enclosure of the Rötschreck, disciplined myself in the Protean so that now I can form the claws of the wolf and Rakner says I have excelled the others in physical agility...' Grant waited for him to continue, knowing what was to come next. 'It just seems that despite all this Sire, I suspect you doubt me, am I wrong?'

Grant sighed like a mortal, 'No. No, you are not wrong.'

'Then I have failed you in some way.'

'It's not that believe me, I just...' Grant stumbled for words, 'I don't think you are quite ready for the horrors that the city will bring. It is not like here.'

Fenris turned to face him, 'My departure is under tomorrow's' moon and my destiny lies as a scout of the Grey Hunters', I believe this...even if you do not.'

'Fenris, listen, it's not that I doubt your ability. I have tried to teach you in the ways of the other clans...'

'Then you _do_ think that I have failed!' Fenris stepped up on the musty wooden steps of the Lair, 'If I cannot prove myself to you in training, then I will prove you wrong in practice!' he snarled.

Grant knew he could not realign the bond that was due between them, not now, so he said nothing.

'Will you be there at my departure tomorrow?'

For him to ask his Sire _that_! Grant nodded sadly although Fenris had already turned and disappeared inside.

The morning rays began to dimly brush the tops of the camp and in the dawnlight, Grant was sure he had seen tears of blood in his fledglings' eyes.

Marian fell back on the mountain of cushions as the drug took effect. Slinky began another chorus of 'We are sailing' that rocked the VW van from side to side when he did the rowing motions.

Someone was banging on the side of the van. The banging got louder until they reached the door and Andrei poked his head inside, 'Ello, what's goin' on here?'

Slinky stopped his rowing and tried to sweep the dreadlocks from his eyes so that he could see who it was. 'A'right Andy mate!' he said showing off the trio of gold caps adorning his teeth. 'Do want some of this shit, its good innit Maz?' He punched Marians' boot, 'Maz!'

'It's her I've come for actually, mate.' Andrei climbed in, trying not to cough his guts up with the heavy incense smoke. He grabbed Marian by the shoulder but she preferred the company of the cushions. 'Gizza hand, will you Slink.'

'I can't man, I'm in a canoe.' he said as if this was perfectly obvious.

Andrei looked at the stringy mat Slinky was sat on, 'That's fair enough, mate.' and began hauling Marian out the side door.

Outside, Andrei tried slapping Marian out of the stupor before she slammed a determined knee up into his groin. She held her head and tried to focus on the figure curled up in agony on the ground. A stereo pumped out music from somewhere behind her. Stereo M.c.'s, _cool_, she thought.

It was one of the many party nights in the huge gypsy settlement that covered nearly a thousand blocks of Sector 5. Deprived of their traditional travellings by the contaminated land outside the city, the gypsies settled as best they could and mocked life. Massive bonfire's burned, people singing and dancing joyfully around them, Jugglers doing their stuff whilst dodging the joyriders that sped around the camp in old done-up Escorts. People were happy here because they didn't give a shit. Everything was cool.

Even her mother was out partying, Marian didn't have to be home tonight because it was unlikely her mother would be either. So she'd met Slinky and a few of his smelly mates and driven over to this bloke called Gobsmack who dealt them some shit for a few Necros. Everything was going fine until bloody Andy Pandy here started dragging her about.

She helped him off the floor and waited until he could breathe properly. Some bloke with an extremely large floppy hat danced gleefully past until he collapsed in a sizeable pile of lager cans.

'You're...to meet a guy called...Sidra...Peder Sidra. He's parked up behind the...Romanov's place.'

'Why should I do that? I don't even know the guy!'

Andrei waved his hand as if he had something really important to say if he could only get his testicles out of his throat, 'He's...from...the East-side.'

Marian stopped her impending argument. The East-side was forbidden to youngsters and most oldies. It was said that the ancient traditions of the Romani race were still practised there. As children they had been told it was a place to be respected in a world where they were taught to respect nothing. Her mother sometimes spoke of it in reverence at big occasions, of an elder race of gypsies that lived there and protected the interests of all.

Sounded bollocks if you asked her. 'Nah, fuck it. Fancy a spliff, Andy?'

Before he could make a reply she caught sight of a figure striding towards her. The man wore shades and a long donkey jacket in which he hid his hands from view. He brought one out like a weapon as he reached the pair,

'Marian Anastasia? I am Peder Sidra.'

'So?' She said petulantly without taking the pale, slender hand.

'I wonder if I could ask you to come with me.' He spoke with a Romani accent untainted by Alucardian slang. 'It's quite important that you come to the East-side.'

'What for?'

'It involves your family.'

She looked concerned, 'What about them? If you've done anything with my mother...'

'Calm down. We're more concerned about you. Now will you come?'

A thousand other questions bubbled forth, but if she could do something for her family she supposed she would have to go along with the geek. She quickly turned attitude, 'Okay, lets go. You got a BMW or what?'

Marian was disappointed that the East-side looked more or less the same as every other part of the camp. There were not as much bonfires and decrepit caravans, only vast, black reinforced tents, but it was nothing special.

She had been taken from the car (a crappy Volvo) and led to a large sweeping purple tent where there appeared to be another party going on. Only this time she didn't recognise anybody. The geek had disappeared somewhere so she stood like a goalpost near the entrance looking uncomfortable and wondering why she had come here.

Someone was calling her name from the other side of tent, how she could hear it over all the noise she wasn't sure, but then she saw the lips moving in unison with her name. A man grinned at her from between the shoulders of dancers, his eyes gleaming beautifully. He beckoned for her to follow, she would have refused but what other choice did she have?

That thing had _bitten_ him!

Darren Vecna raced down the worn, crumbling steps from the Church, nearly losing his grip on the pistol he held. At the bottom he slammed back against the wall, swinging the gun back up the dark stairway in case the terror should come rushing back out after him.

His neck was bleeding heavily and he felt as if he might pass out at any moment. He waited, trying to keep his concentration fixed on the stairs but his mind drifted against his will to Susan and how he might never get to see her again.

Vecna had been a D.C. in the Alucard Police Constabulary for too many years, too many to be at the same rank anyway. He guessed that his problem was that he was not ambitious enough, the cavalier spirit he had started the force with had withered considerably after years on the dark, dirty, ungrateful streets of the city. Susan looked at him with less respect these days, she still loved him but he suspected it was more pity now.

Martin was a different case altogether. His son made it perfectly clear that he thought the red-tape of the law an encumbrance to sweeping the rubbish from the streets. Almost a man himself, he'd admitted that he thought his father just one more penpusher in that mechanism of pointless stationary. Last week they'd argued about it and with both of them telling too many truths, Martin had left. He hadn't seen him since, Susan blamed him but said nothing, which made it worse.

So after several glasses of J.D. he'd driven here, the closed down Baptist church in Block 98, knowing full well that Ashenlar was handing over a significant consignment of Charlie for conveyance to the Red-Beam district. Of course the A.P.C. wouldn't touch it because the drug-deal was not at a stage where an arrest would be 'viable'. Bollocks to that he thought, for once he was going to break the rules, for Martin's sake if anything.

And of course he landed himself right in the shit. No plan, no backup and plenty of bourbon sloshing around inside him, he had little chance against a gang of drug dealers. But he hadn't expected Ashenlar to almost make him drop his gun and feint just by looking at him and then move so quickly to his throat...like an animal.

Against his will he'd managed to get off a shot that scattered the party and gave him chance to escape. Trouble was, they weren't chasing. Why?

He stumbled down the side of the old building, collecting moss between his fingers as he tried to keep balance.

A shape stepped out from behind a gravestone, a slim knife clutched in its fist. Vecna raised his gun even as the figure charged him growling like a dog. Despite the trauma he was suffering, Vecna was a professional shot, he eased back on the trigger and the bullet flew true, separating the man's forearm bones. He dropped the knife and howled horribly, but kept on coming. He was too close now for a decent shot so Vecna slammed the pistol butt up into the bridge of his nose and made a run for it.

A sleek limousine, looking out of place in the rotting, moonlit graveyard, sped from the driveway and straight towards him. He fired off a shot, which splintered the windscreen and dived against the wall. The car smashed into a gravestone, slamming the drivers' head into the windscreen with a dull thunk.

Vecna was sure he had broken his ribs, the pain and the loss of blood made him unable to move for a moment, then he clawed his way along what appeared to be a tunnel under the church belfry to the driveway beyond.

There was a sound behind him. He whirled round just in time to see the gang of monsters charging. Pale faces, contorted by rage, and wide, red mouths holding bloody teeth.

His screams seemed muffled in the darkness beneath the church.

The digital clock chimed its alarm just as the sun was setting. Carmina made an attempt to push the microscopic button on the clock's surface but only succeeded in knocking it off the drawer and onto the carpet where it continued its screeching tune.

Carmina groaned a second time and threw a pillow over the clock. Holding her head she resigned herself to getting up and getting some supper before she headed out on the job. She stepped from the bed and onto the pillow which, when she stood, made a satisfying crunch which stopped the muffled alarm.

Sleeping most of the day and getting up now was Terry Finch's idea. It would help them stay alert while they waited for the Security Chief of Hydrocon plc. to turn up for his payment. They had been tailing Sean DeSenko for two weeks, the story had been going nowhere and Roiters, the editor of the Rapier newspaper where she worked, had threatened to pull them off if they didn't get results soon. A stray memo had got them that result. DeSenko was doing bully-jobs on the side and she had a hunch his moonlight employers were the Mafia.

She pulled two wholewheat pitta breads stuffed with brocolli and cauliflower cheese from the fridge. After a look at the far-too-healthy snack she pushed them both back. She would have to rely on coffee to get her through.

She made a cup and went through to the living room of the pseudo-yuppie flat that she owned on the left bank of the Acheron River in Sector 2, switching her answer-machine to playback.

The River was no more than the occasional stream that the council of the city had to work hard to get Hydrocon to produce and she looked sadly to where the ducks used to congregate on the green banks before the bombs had rained down around the city.

'_Carmina, this is your mother. I thought we arranged for you to call once a week at 7pm Wednesday_.' The familiar droll of her all too protective mother was predictably the first message up. She rolled her eyes, '_Now I'm not nagging as you know, but would it be too much trouble just have a chat every now and then. I don't think I'm asking too much so I hope to hear from you soon. Bye, love_.'

'_Hello, its Terry just to remind you that I'll pick you up at nine, tonight_...'

Carmina took a long swig of the coffee and fast-forwarded Terry's message, which would undoubtedly be about things she already knew, like tonight's arrangements and his secretive crush on her.

The next message began but there was no voice on the line and then, '..._Hi Babe, my name is Jack? We met at the Rapier party a few weeks back, I gave you my number but you never called_...'

'Can't you take a hint then?' She said to the machine as it carried on.

'..._So I got your number from the paper' He laughed obviously proud of his 'genius' '...and I just wondered if you fancy..._' The tape got fast-forwarded again.

'_Carmina, this is your mother_...'the machine was switched off.

An hour later Terry's polished Mazda pulled up outside and she went down to meet him. She crept carefully down the stairs in case she stirred the landlord Baxter, from his regular slob in front of tonight's game show. She owed him four days rent and he was meticulous about collecting, (unlike his personal hygiene).

There was a light breeze tonight, smelling slightly of the spicy sulphur that blew in from the deserts despite the contamination barriers. The street was almost silent, with few animals in the city, most of the noise was man-made and ugly. She trotted down the steps and into the car.

Carmina ruffled through the contents of the glovebox, 'You got any crisps? I'm starving.'

'Did you not eat before you came? I said you should.'

'Yes, well we're not all as prioritised as you, Terry.' The sarcasm flew over Terry's balding scalp the way it always did. Terry was not yet in his mid-twenties, yet his black hair was already spreading itself thin. It didn't help that he had a baby-face to go with it, this made him look ridiculous and it was fortunate he was stuck behind the camera lens most of the time.

'Roiters called me up before I left, he wants this one in the bag with no chance for libel. We've got to get him clean.'

'I'll get him anyway that makes the story sell papers!' Carmina looked out at the set of garages which were still devoid of activity after their three hour wait. 'Roiters wants the big stories, the ones that bring sensation, that's why I got took on. He wants to blow NOW newspaper out of the water, but he's not going to get that if he doesn't take a few risks!'

'Yeah.'

As usual Terry was silenced by her passion. No doubt he was on Roiters side and hoped that Carmina didn't go too far and get the newspaper into more trouble than it could handle. The Rapier was small time compared to the large media conglomerate she had worked for in Paris, but that had all been arranged by her mother. She had even lived with her family while working there. Her move to Alucard had dismayed them, but she would never know whether she was the journalist that merited getting the job her mothers contacts had got her until she did it for real, without help. The stories were petty and unexciting for the most part, but at least they were hers.

And this was the biggest yet.

'Someones here.' Terry flinched and ducked down in his seat as if the occupants of the other car that pulled up could see across the yards of wasteground and into the spare patch of parking space hidden behind the bushes.

Carmina handed him the camera, 'Are you going to get some piccy's or are you planning on inspecting the clutch pedal the rest of the night?'

'Oh yeah, right.' He fumbled with the camera and let loose a few shots of the dark suited men that got out of the car. One of them slipped away into the shadows of the inner garage while the rest leant against the bonnet and lit up cigarettes.

Carmina sighed, 'That's what I could do with right now.' remembering the pack of Silk Cut she had left in the bedroom.

Another cars' headlights scoured the horizon and fell short of the other vehicle before both them and the engine died. The only occupant of the car got out. It was DeSenko.

'Get his face!' she hissed to Terry who had the lens pressed up against the glass of the windscreen.

'There's not enough light and the distance is too long.' He reached for his carrying case and a glum expression formed on his face when he opened it. 'Uh-oh.'

'What? What's wrong?'

'I must have left the other lenses in my dark room.' Terry looked as guilty as he could.

'Oh no!'. Carmina covered her eyes with a palm, 'Well you're going to have to go out there, until the distance is right and snap a few faces with what you've got.'

Terry looked at her in horror, 'Who me? What if I make some noise? Those guys have got guns you know?'

'Terry we'll lose the story if you don't!'

'Then that's what we'll have to do.' Terry said in a parental tone.

'Bollocks we'll have to do that!' Carmina grabbed the camera and sprinted out and away from the car.

'Carmina!'

She settled down a few hundred yards from where DeSenko was shaking his fist angrily at a man who was clearly not impressed. The lens was light sensitive so it picked out DeSenko's motley features even in this half-light. She began clicking pictures.

DeSenko had decided to take up his argument with the occupier of the other car who sat in shadow in the back seat. After a small scuffle with one of the bodyguards, the back door clicked open and a hand beckoned for him to get in.

The back seat was almost within her line of sight, through the lens she could pick out the mans' pinstripe trousers, but nothing more from this angle.

She crept through the bricks and dusty shrubs trying to get a shot into the car. The mugshots of DeSenko and a Mafia boss would make the story sweet indeed.

Carmina lost her balance against a sharp half-brick sticking from the ground, she fell hard on her elbow, jarring the picture she was taking. She dusted herself down and looked through the camera again.

People were running towards her.

'_Shit_!' She scrambled to her feet and pounded her way back towards Terry's car, 'Terry start the car! We're leaving!'

Terry's face dropped several inches when he saw the dark figures closing in on Carmina. He revved the engine, which stalled in his panic.

One of the men fired a pistol which bounced of the cars roof as Carmina floundered on the bonnet. '_Move_!'

The car started and reversed sharply, throwing Carmina back onto the ground. Another bullet split the ground apart yards from her. She got up again and raced toward the car door that Terry flung open. Terry's eyes bulged and he was screaming something but the noise of the guns had deafened her.

The moment she grabbed hold of the door, Terrys' boldness ran out, he stepped down on the accelerator and Carmina was dragged from her feet, her arm nearly pulled from its socket.

Dust and gravel slapped her face as she was pulled along the ground, still grasping the car door, she had managed to throw the camera onto the passenger seat, but with another bullet imbedding itself into the Mazda's bodywork, she wished she'd threw herself there too.

Terry, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was being pulled along the side of the road at highspeed, swerved onto the main road out of the Block-area. Carmina's fingers gave up and with a scream she was thrown into an alleyway.

She came to a halt against a trash-skip, not before her body had rebounded off the wall a few times though.

'Ow.' She groaned.

There was no way she was moving anywhere fast for a while. Crawling to the edge of the alley, she saw that all apart from one of the pursuers had lost the chase. One man though had decided he'd deal with her alone and came grinning over towards the alley.

She tried to stand but a lance of hot pain shot up from her leg. She tried to get the Swiss-Army knife from the depths of her rain-coat but the damn thing was stuck sideways in the pocket and wouldn't budge with just one hand.

The man came round the corner, he was still grinning as he saw the crippled woman on the floor. He was faintly European looking, and smelling, she noticed. It seemed insane that she was thinking about this man's garlic breath when she was so terrified.

He kicked her savagely in the leg. A scream of agony burst from her lips and she curled up as best she could against the onslaught.

Large heavy hands grabbed her shoulders and wrenched her from the floor and up against the wall. She almost lost consciousness with the pain but he slapped her face hard until she looked into his cruel eyes. He grinned as he began pushing his fist between her thighs.

His touch never came though. Carmina had closed her eyes tight and allowed herself a squint when his hold suddenly fell away. The man was lying sprawled at her feet, his eyes looking about frantically, while his mouth worked uselessly and dribbled spit

A tall woman stood opposite her, she was gorgeous in her darkness and stature. She moved to Carmina's side before she fell, one of her heels crushing the paralysed man's fingers. He didn't or couldn't make a noise.

'Thank...you' Carmina managed to mumble in the woman's arms, she didn't have the strength to say any more, even when the woman bent to her neck.

Slinky would never have believed this, even if she were allowed to tell him. Apparently those that became the 'Ravnos' kindred were never allowed to socialise again with their former friends. This was probably no bad thing considering the friends that Marian had, but to never see her mother again hurt. She had never known that from birth as the seventh child of her parents she was destined to be embraced by the Ravnos and become something called a 'Dream Weaver' to protect the gypsies of Alucard.

She had never said goodbye properly.

She wondered if her mother grieved or not. Surely she would have known that last night would come, and if she did, all the love Marian had shown her was for nothing, because all the time she was being watched. It made her feel angry to be used like that, but if it was tradition then she imagined her parents had little choice.

Marian felt her rebellious side rising again, but the vampire blood that now flowed in her veins steadied her, not wanting her to lose control. The Ravnos were her family now. The Becoming had been shit-your-pants scary at first, and she had fought hard against the monsters whispering in her mind, but gradually the gentle Romani words of her Sire seduced and comforted her to capitulate.

However, although she was one of them she was also very much herself and there was no way she was going to get swallowed up in some clan.

Madame Saiy's wrinkled, claw-like hand gently touched her arm, 'Are you sure you want to present yourself to the Prince on your own, child?'

Marian nodded, 'Aye.'

Saiy was reputedly the second oldest Ravnos in the camp (although it was hard to tell when you were immortal) and the spiritual leader, her tutor on the path of Paradox. She had wanted Marian to be presented to the Prince of the city as all new vampires had to be, with Ravnos cohorts. But she was determined that the camp was no place for her now, not with the threat, however slight, of running into her mother again. She couldn't face that.

She had contacts in the city that might prove handy. 'Very well. May the Flux blind your intent to others.' Siay rasped

'Aye.'

Marian heaved open the door to her van in the warm night, and her dog dived in (she had been shown a neat trick to bind animals with blood). She looked back at the small frail woman who bent under her cowl with glowing red eyes. What sort of world was she in now?

She started the engine and spun mud for a bit before setting out for the place she had been told in Central Sector. The parliament of an ancient race of super-beings.

The Elysium.


	3. Chapter 3

cHAPTER 1

_I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. _- G. M. Hopkins

The sun was already high in the sky as Nathaniel Mallory pumped more amphetamine into his undead veins in the darkened theatre. The drug had long since lost any pleasurable effect on his body and only acted as a stimulant against the supernatural sleep he could not afford to give in to.

It was twenty-nine years ago when he began this second series of experiments in the Slavic city of Tchalis, south of Alucard. He had been open about his hypothesis then, proclaiming to the human press his plans to bridge inter-dimensional gaps through the construction of a 'D-Cannon' that literally ripped a hole in the fabric of reality. He'd been mocked and slaughtered by the mortal scientific authorities as another crackpot of the age.

However he was also a kindred of the Sabbat, the ruling Sect of Tchalis, and the Inquisition did not look kindly on a project that in effect could allow Dark entities free access to this world. He was tried and sentenced to death by acid-dismemberment and his wretched carcass to be strung out before the dawn. He shivered as the leech inside his soul remembered that fate.

He had one supporter though; Clois had been his crutch through all of this. She had also rescued him from the Sabbat and both he and Clois had fled to the Camarilla held city of Alucard. As the enemy of the Camarilla, the Inquisition would not be able to find him so easily, especially since Tchalis and all other cities not within the S.D.I. shields had been devastated by the 'Blitz' a few years after.

He studied his plans again with weary eyes and an even wearier mind. He had to have the machine finished and trialed within two nights, if his ally in the Elysium was to go ahead and provide the other 'ingredient'.

He still wasn't sure why he had received the help he had from such a powerful ally. He had been provided with the resources, finance and even this theatre, the Raven, to execute the experiment in. He guessed it might be scientific curiosity the same as himself, but knowing the kindred mind, he thought that unlikely.

He could sense the awful rays of the sun scour the buildings roof, its burning heat desperate to taste his flammable flesh. He had to hide and sleep.

He left his work reluctantly and jumped down into the orchestra pit where Clois huddled in the corner asleep. He smiled at the serenity of her beautiful features and lay down himself, allowing his fingers to gently touch her waist.

Lord Premier Lewis Eldritch watched the Central Sector by night from the massive Alucard museum with eyes older than most of the buildings he looked down upon.

The Central Sector was twenty-five square miles of brightly lit concrete landscape, struggling to perform the business of an entire city that didn't care any longer. A helicopter flew through the smog, its lights reflecting on the mirrored shades the Lord wore. He thought it slightly amusing how the mortals carried on twitching at the fluctuating price of shoe leather when fifty miles north the radiated dust of the deserts would greedily dissolve any such footwear as they crept past the struggling Opaque shields.

This city was finished; it had cheated itself from nuclear destruction only to appear on the other side more desperate and greedy. The region had no uncontaminated water, no usable fossil fuel, little wind and little direct sunlight. Alucard seemed constantly covered by a warm, repressive blanket of cloud that occasionally split to shower mild acid rain through the shield that stopped other types of air contamination getting through. Eldritch found it hard to imagine a worse place to inhabit.

However, here he had power. Not only was he director of Alucards' most vital company, Hydrocon, (without which the city would not be able to use the water that gave them light, heat and life) but he also sat on the Primogen council of three. One authority gave him influence over the mortals, the other over the kindred of the city.

Supreme authority lay in the Prince of course, and his own power originated from a triumvirate council, but over the centuries Eldritch had grown to know his other Premier's weakspots and the strings needed to influence Jathlid, the Prince.

Yes, unlife was good because he had made it so; he belonged to the Giovanni clan who always made it their soul purpose to excel in mortal business and immortal politics.

It was just a shame he had to have that power here in this rubbish heap of a city.

Senator Gratia came up the steps to the small-pillared balcony, a detestable man of the eleventh generation kindred. He was Giovanni (just) but the way he crawled round the Red-Beam district it was likely he was good part syphilis too.

'My Lord, the Prince wishes you to receive three childer as he's busy and notices that you...er...are not.' He tossed the greasy tentacle of black hair that hung over his dry scalp behind his ear nervously.

Eldritch looked at the smaller man with distaste and raised an eyebrow, already planting his question in Gratia's mind.

'Lord Premier Bruskov is with the Prince and Lady Premier Anfalas is not in the building, my Lord.' Gratia replied almost cringing.

Eldritch held his scowl a second longer before allowing it to fade into his pale, smooth skin, 'I will be but a moment.'

'Yes, my Lord.' Gratia backed away in a ridiculous bowing gesture.

_Oh, Gratia_?

Gratia's head appeared again at the top of the steps, 'Yes my Lord?'

'To which clan have they been sired?'

'A Gangrel, a Ravnos and...er...a Tremere, my Lord.'

Eldritch turned away and heard Gratia depart. The Gangrel and Ravnos would be of no great interest. It was more than likely they would return home to the outer-Sector scum pits from which they came. But the Tremere was more interesting. It was a constant challenge to watch with a wry eye the Witch clan and see that it had the least amount of power as possible.

In his Necromantic depths the evil amongst the dead were whispering to him about these childer. _Something_.

Nothing must be allowed to obstruct his plans with the Sabbat scientist. It was unlikely these mere progeny could do anything to influence the greater picture, but still...

He turned away from the view and grasped his cane, the ornate lamb's skull that mounted it allowing his long fingers to slip between the bones. He struck it against the floor, producing a small vicious flash that reflected instantly in his mirrored sunglasses before descending the steps to meet his enemy.

'Do you like fellatio?'

A tassel of the girls' hair flicked around Fenris's ear as she leant forward, the wind whipping around them as his bike hit sixty-five. He'd never heard of the word, but he suspected the company he was keeping made it self-explanatory.

'I'd prefer to get where I'm looking for!' he shouted over the scream of the bike's engines. The bike was still partly choked with the dust he'd picked up from the long journey here. He'd dutifully made an attempt to introduce himself to the Prince and after proving he was indeed of the Camarilla kindred, had been welcomed by a Lord Premier instead. Fenris was disappointed with this, it was not supposed to be this way. His opinion of the Prince had lowered considerably.

The Premier had acknowledged their presence like flies in his chamber, his eyes hidden behind mirrored, silver glasses. He had not liked the man; he sensed a darkness within him. Not like the glorious darkness of the wilderness, but the kind of darkness that bred in sewers and city alleys. But he was an Elder and thus he had shown respect.

He sensed other childer being introduced with him but he only caught the occasional glimpse in the shadowed halls; two females he thought.

After that, things had been more structured, if he chose to stay within the inner city cloaked guards had given him brief details of a safehouse in Sector 2. Their tone had been more like orders.

And then he had been thrown back out onto the streets, he had been given all the official guidance he was going to get. It was time to start fending for himself. Now he was alone; Grant Fey a memory.

He pushed that sorrowful thought away angrily, turning a corner at such speed that the prostitute behind had to cling desperately to his sides.

The city was already depressing him, with its grey sky, monolith buildings and oily puddles. He thought even less of the mortals.

'Turn left here, and then straight for two blocks!' his guide shouted in his ear, 'Can you go faster?'

Fenris complied, roaring in and out of the little traffic on the streets out of the Central Sector.

They arrived at Sector 2 Block 120 in half of an hour, Apartment 13 was several doors down from the alley where they pulled up.

'Well, here you are, as I promised.' The girl got off the bike and began adjusting her hair, 'We arranged 40 Necros.' she said without looking him in the eye.

Fenris got off the steaming bike and reached into his inside pocket, 'What did you say your name was?'

'Sindi. With an 'i', not a 'y'.' He gave her the money which she deposited in the grasp of her suspenders, 'I'd like a kiss for my troubles as well.' she smiled moving closer.

Fenris immediately felt the wolf within him begin to waken, to salivate at the thought of hot blood after such a long trip. He inclined his head to hers, trying to ignore the stench of perfume that stung his sensitive nostrils.

He jerked his head up and backwards to the group of men that stood just yards away.

Sindi backed off towards the entrance to the alley, 'Woh, er...see ya Fen. You give me a call yeah?' She ran.

'Another visitor.' One of the men said, clenching a chain in both hands.

They charged as one. Fenris spun on his heel, his foot colliding with a man's chest that sent him sprawling in a puddle. He ducked as a bat missed his face, a steel chain hit his knee making him kneel in pain.

He tried to send blood to his muscles but he was so tired. A heavy figure jumped on his back, but he immediately threw the man off into the darkness with a yell. A metal bat hit him in the face from out of nowhere; he staggered back as more hits rained down upon him.

Finally, exhausted, he fell.

Apartment 13 was also known as Arkhouse. It was an old style three-floor building, with damp warping the floors and heavy shutters that covered the windows. A set of moulding concrete steps raised out of the ground to the front door. The inner hallway was dark, the diamond tiles on the floor had small weeds growing in-between those that were missing. A staircase stretched like a corpses' arm towards the second floor, but Fenris was dragged into a doorway to his right and flung on the ground.

'Another one? That's too many fucking licks that we don't know anything about! They can't stay, Juggler!'

'We have the room.'

'So what are we, the fucking Salvation Army?'

Fenris tried to stop the blood dripping into his eyes, but he was too exhausted to even make it clot. He made out several figures in the shadowy room lit only with a single naked lightbulb.

Marian recognised the bloke on the ground to be a Gangrel. She'd seen them around the camp, tall, rough country boys with muscles. No sense of humour. But big muscles. She hoped he was on her side. The vampire behind her still held her tight, she gave him a sharp elbow in the stomach just for the hell of it.

Juggler brought his attention back to Marian and the city girl who had to be gagged because she kept screaming. Juggler sat on the musty sofa, his face almost as pale as his hair, but his features strong and that of a leader. Flanking him were a Brujah punk girl, named Crook with an attitude almost as big as the house, she kept butting in but Juggler seemed to have infinite patience. On his other side was a slim man swathed in a black coat, with a cat-like face. His name was Grimes which seemed to suit him down to the fish-hook earrings he wore.

'As I was saying,' Juggler said, 'this is _my_ house and you follow my rules while you're here. I don't want to come down hard on you children, but you're in a completely different game now from your cosy past lives. I trust you've been sufficiently trained by your sires not to do anything stupid like going round showing off any powers you might have to the mortals. Any shit like that and you'll find out just how many contacts I have in this city.' He ran a bony hand through his dead hair as if it was a strain to talk this way.

'Now, you play the night games our way and don't go stepping on anyone's toes and we'll be fine. In Arkhouse we look out for each other, but if you want to do your own thing feel free. Hey, I can be liberal!'

Juggler clearly needed sleep, he resisted Crooks' efforts to help him as he gave a brief farewell and moved through some double doors adjoining the back room.

'There's a couple of rooms free upstairs, take 'em.' Crook muttered before following Juggler.

Marian picked up Fenris from the floor and helped him upstairs, Carmina sunk limply in the arms of a Brujah as they followed.

'Make sure you close those curtains tight, kids!' Grimes giggled like a girl.

The voices were harsh and cold in the empty darkness,

'_Repeat the words! Repeat them_!'

Carmina could not see into the dark, she could only smell something damp and faintly rotten.

'_Repeat the words_.' A calmer voice interrupted, female, '_I, Carmina St.Michael, hereby swear my everlasting loyalty to the House and Clan Tremere and all its members_.'

She wanted to obey that sweet voice and she stumbled over the words, her thoughts numb and confused.

'_You must partake in the power, to attain power...Swallow_...'

A container was brought to her lips and hands pushed her face towards it. She struggled but she was forced harder.

The liquid was thick and warm; it seeped over her lips and across her tongue. The liquid felt like whisky, searing her throat, making her shiver. Her senses began to come back to her and she felt better. But the taste, it was..._it was blood!_

Carmina screamed as she reached the surface of her dreams. She sat up on the smelly mattress to find some grubby gypsy girl staring at her incredulously, '_Christ_! What's up your arse, girl?'

Carmina ignored her and looked bewildered around the shaded room. Its cracked mustard coloured walls, cobwebs stretching over the peeling surface to the bare floorboards that were missing in places. The mattress was the only convenience in the room.

'Where am I?' she said gruffly, her throat still sore from the scream. Or was it something else?

'Well, at a guess it's not the Copa Kabannah.' the girl said, lighting up a cigarette.

Carmina looked over to the figure at the other end of the mattress, 'Who are you?'

'Hi, I'm Marian.' She held out her hand, 'I'll be your room-mate for the next eternity.'

Carmina crawled away from the bejewelled wrist, she held her head, feeling thoughts but not able to focus on them

Marian stood up and walked to the window, pulling one of the nails out of the wall that held the curtain to it, she looked out on the street below, 'First night in the big city. I suppose you used to live here?'

'What? No of course not...'

'Not here, you dope! I mean here in the city, you look like a career chick.' Marian smiled in the moonlight.

Carmina regarded her with distaste, 'I'm not telling you anything until you've told me where I am. Do you work for DeSenko?'

Marian frowned, 'Hey man, we're using the same paddle here. This is your new life!'

'What are you talking about?' Carmina found that her knife was still lodged in her pocket.

'You're one of us now. Well you're not, but you kinda _are_ only different families so to speak. The kindred you know? Vampires? Didn't they teach you anything at bloodsucker school?'

'You're bloody crazy,' Carmina got up and wrapped her coat round her shoulders, 'I don't need no drugged-up hippie at me right now, thanks.'

'You want to keep that gob of yours shut lady, unless you have a spare ashtray on you' Marian growled.

Carmina walked to the door, but before she could open it, it burst inwards. She screamed and fell back on the mattress.

Fenris stood at the door, dagger drawn.

'Well hello, Tarzan.' Marian grinned.

'I thought after last night...when you weren't there this evening...that er...something had happened.' Fenris blustered, putting away his knife. 'My name is Fenris, Get of Fey of the Gangrel clan.' He knelt at Carmina's feet.

'I've _gotta_ get out of here.' Carmina shook her head.

The moon shone like a clean washed pearl in the sky above the Raven theatre. On the balcony below, Clois Hutson ran the ring on her finger around her knuckle for the hundredth time.

The Nathaniel Mallory she had known would never have agreed to this. The man she had fell in love with over sixty years ago was focused upon scientific discovery, but not at the expense of mortal lives.

She had never been at ease in the Sabbat, despite the terrifying Creation Rites of being buried alive that all initiates had to get through, her conscience had never been broken completely. She had shunned away from the slaughter as her pack-mates hunted on the once tidy streets of Tchalis. One night she would have had to kill like them, and if she didn't they would take her 'unfit' blood for themselves. Such was the way in the Sabbat. And then she found Nathaniel. The only vampire she knew who was not devoted either to ritual massacre or Inquisitional fanatiscm. He had his own spirit.

Clois was fully taken in by his visions of inter-dimensional travel which only the fabled were-wolf Lupines had mastered. They worked together, fed together and slept together. But this blissful world was shattered when those in the Inquisition found about his plans had dragged his beaten body away to await a 'witch-trial'.

She couldn't let that happen, and quite capable of infiltrating the Hall of Caine Perverted, she rescued her unconscious lover and escaped North to her home city of Alucard.

They waited in hiding many years until introducing themselves to the Prince. Many had wanted their blood but the Premier Eldritch, knowing of Mallory's reputation had stood for them. Now she suspected why.

All of a sudden human sacrifices were needed to bridge the dimension.

Why? What dimension were they attempting to reach that needed virgin blood to allow access?

She walked back into the gallery where Mallory stood talking to the short untidy girl that had come with Eldritch's plans. Her name was Ann Harris, a Brujah, she suspected by her attitude.

She climbed over the loges and swung gracefully down onto the forestage, keeping her eye on Harris.

'Well Clois, tomorrow night we may have achieved our dream at last.' Mallory beamed.

'Are you still insistent we need blood?'

'It's not a case of needing it my dear, its just...well...'

'A lubricant.' Harris spoke up as her eyes locked with Clois's.

'That's right.' Mallory nodded as if Harris was a fellow scientist instead of the white trash she was.

'Where will you get it from?' Clois asked coming closer and dreading the answer. 'I bet virgin blood is scarce amongst these people.'

'Not if you get them young enough.' Harris smiled wickedly, her large fangs biting into her lips. 'We're going to hit an orphanage. The St.Stanford on 771 Block.'

Clois couldn't believe what she was hearing, 'You _can't..._Nathaniel, you have agreed to this?'

Mallory looked sad and tried to hold her shoulder which she avoided, 'Lord Eldritch insists, and without his support...'

'But _children_?'

'I'll leave you two to sort out your morals.' Harris jumped down from the stage, 'Be ready.'

Mallory nodded but noticed that Clois was still staring at him. 'If its the way it has to be, then let it be.'

'You would've never accepted this before.'

Mallory turned on her suddenly, 'That's right and maybe that's why I never got anywhere! This is my chance to prove my theory and if a few snot-faced mortal brats have to be done away with, then that's fine by me!'

Clois was not all together shocked by the answer, it was his ambition afterall, but that didn't make it right, 'I can't agree with you on this one, Nathaniel.' she said quietly.

'And do you suppose I care?'

Clois turned away and walked into the wings, he would not see her cry.

Mallory considered calling after her, even dominating her round to his opinion. He had done that before and it seemed he was doing it a lot recently. What was happening to him?

He pushed the thought away, he didn't need her help now. He had other friends.

' Let me go. Please!' Carmina pressed her self against the wall, away from the two maniacs.

'What is she talking about?' Fenris said.

'I dunno, she's being going on like that since she woke.' Marian was studying a scuff mark on her boot intensely.

Fenris seemed to study Carmina, he sensed she was kindred. Perhaps she was a Caitiff, a vampire embraced without the necessary care of a close sire. He had heard the inner-city clans were not as welcoming of their neonates and thus they tended to be a little neurotic. 'Listen, we're not going to harm you. We're, well, _I'm_ your friend, we should stick together.'

'I don't want to be your friend! I just want to get out of this rat-hole, okay?' Carmina spat, edging towards the door.

Fenris looked resigned, this befriending other vampires bit was not going according to his plan, 'If you must go, then go.' he sighed.

'Thanks.' Carmina scrambled out of the door and headed for the stairs.

'_Wait_! I don't even know your name!' Fenris shouted to her rapidly descending figure.

'Oh, let the snotty bitch go.' Marian muttered. 'C'mon lets check this place out.' She trotted off towards the third floor.

Fenris looked after Carmina who ran out of the house, then after Marian who was whistling some tuneless melody down the rustic corridor.

This was very weird. Surely he should be taking charge here?

'Oi, Fen! Move your arse, will you!' Marian called from the stairway upwards.

'It's Fen_ris_ gypsy.' Fenris growled getting very frustrated with the way things were turning out.

Huddled shapes crawled around the overflowing dustbins on the street corner, they whistled and shouted as Carmina ran past looking for a taxi in this damnable area. She saw the familiar black-green metallic of an Alucard taxi and shouted.

The car did a screeching U-turn and sped back up the street towards her only stopping once it had mounted the pavement. A fat man of indiscriminate age seemed to be welded into the drivers seat, he leaned over, his jowls shaking, 'What?'

'I need a ride, Block 110.' she panted and got into the grimy interior.

The car sped off, presumably to where she had asked, but she couldn't be sure with taxi's. She tried to recall the last few days, but could only remember horrifying nightmares and voices like one bad acid trip. The skin on her face felt somehow different, cold but not clammy. She needed a bath and a hot meal. Yeah, and maybe a shrink to sort her head out.

The taxi swerved round a narrow corner away from Arkhouse. Headlights appeared in an alley like phantoms before the black BMW followed.

'Bollocks. It's locked.' Marian barged her shoulder against the hatchway that opened onto the roof but it was locked from the outside. 'Who puts a lock on the outside of a roof?' she called down the ladder to Fenris on the wide space of the third floor.

The third floor seemed to be converted store-space, only slightly converted however, as only what looked like an office was habitable. Fenris walked over, its door and glass covered in elaborate fur. 'Why don't you give it up?' he said over his shoulder.

'What? There's someone singing on the roof and I want to know who it is!'

'Are you always this curious?'

'Hey, I'm a Ravnos, it's my job to interfere in other peoples business!' She jammed her shoulder up against the door again, delicately keeping her balance on the rusty ladder that stretched up five metres to the ceiling.

Fenris looked at the fur more closer, recognised it as...

'Wolf-fur.' A woman appeared at the office door.

Fenris stepped back, 'My name is Fenris, Get of Fey. Where did you obtain such material?'

Marian climbed down the ladder giving up the strange dirge she had heard on the roof in favour of meeting or beating their new adversary.

'I am Hollow, Get of Grimfeld and like you, a Grey Hunter.'

Fenris balked, the female who stood before him was tall but lanky, a long auburn dress covered her frame, a dangling teardrop necklace round her thin neck. She wasn't what Fenris had expected city-Gangrel to look like. An untidy mop of blonde hair hung gently over small animal eyes outlined heavily in black.

'I..er..I imagined that you would be _broader_.'

She laughed cruelly, 'Why? Because you yourself are built like a Blood Claw? You'll find that most times you need brains not brawn in the city, Fenris.'

A huge centipede appeared from her sleeve and caressed her long fingers with chitinous legs.

'And a few bugs to while the time away.' said Marian stepping back.

'I have my ken as you have your trinkets, gypsy.'

Fenris stepped between them as Marian began forward motion. 'Could I perhaps speak with you?' he offered to Hollow.

She opened the door to the small interior a little wider and he edged in.

Marian was about to complain but was fixed in a cold glare from Hollow before the door slammed.

'Is everyone bitchy around here?' she said to the empty floor, the beautiful singing continuing from above.

The cramped room seemed filled with open glass tanks on every side; each one covered in vines and rotten foliage behind which Fenris spotted black things moving around. The temperature was excessive. Hollow placed herself in the armchair holding a Giant Weta cricket that rubbed its stubbled body across her chin, 'You're privileged to be in here, I wouldn't allow anyone else in the house inside.' Fenris idled with the idea that he might not be so lucky as a Preying Mantis raised its grasping front legs from a nearby branch. 'You're Gangrel so I'm trusting you. What do want then?'

'This place...is not what I was expecting.' Fenris began uncomfortably, 'Everything is so much different from the Homelands, not just the city but the way of life, the attitudes. Kindred here are so...directionless.'

Hollow grinned, 'Welcome to the jungle, friend.'

'But is this true of all kindred here, they are subjugated so easily to a system they care nothing about?' Fenris lifted his foot so that something could crawl past it.

'It's tough for Gangrel here, Fenris. As a Grey Hunter you are supposed to spy on the actions of the other clans, (and that's what we are really, spies) but the system prohibits us from mixing where the real power is. Our own Wolf-Lord is but a mere Councillor in the Parliament. The Anarchs couldn't give a shit, despite Jugglers' dreams of revolution. At this level the Jyhad is essentially pointless.'

'That can't be-'

'Believe it Fenris, it's all well and good to protect the interests of our clan, to stop those thieving Giovanni opening some detestable factory in the Homelands, but there's no-one to fight here. That's why the wolf-priests only send the best Hunters into the city now, 'cos you get marooned here.'

Fenris felt his distaste for the city coming back. 'So if you're one of the best, why do you just shut yourself away like this.'

Hollow gave a short mock-laugh, 'No, I was sent decades ago. My type will be helping the native Indians find clean water nowadays. I can't go back there to that type of competition; to the standard kindred like _you_ have set.'

She got up and put her hand to his broad shoulder, 'The wolf runs strong in you, Fenris, but the city will eat you up if you fight against it. If you can't assimilate...then you best escape.'

'Fey may have been right then...' he said sadly.

Hollow looked concerned, but a gun shot rang out from outside. Fenris dragged open the door and sprang out, pistol drawn.

'Locks' off.' Marian beamed, bringing her aim down from the ceiling where the trapdoor now had a sizeable hole in it.

Carmina slammed the door shut behind her, she rubbed her face again trying to dislodge the sluggishness that seemed to wallow under her skin.

There was a note at her feet.

She knelt and picked it up,

_Carmina, where are you?_

_If you get this meet me at the Brat Shack tavern at 9pm Tomorrow._

_Terry_.

'Terry.' Thank God they hadn't got him too. Suddenly she wondered whether DeSenko's men had followed her here. They had let her go way too easy; they obviously wanted to know where she lived. She cursed herself for coming here and not the newspaper. She rushed over to the window where a slow breeze blew rain half-heartedly onto the glass. There was no sign of anyone outside. She hesitated before switching on the light though.

She was too tired for this. She would have a bath, change, and then worry about gangsters.

She slipped off her shoes and coat and walked into the bathroom. 'Oh Christ, please tell me I don't look that bad.' her reflection in the mirror was that of someone closer to forty than twenty-six. Her hair was dry and dull, the skin under her eyes sunk down grey onto her cheekbones.

She put a broken-fingernail to her cracked lips tentatively. She groaned again, wondering how many nights she had lain unconscious on that scabby bed.

The warm water of the bath sent out drifting clouds of steam to take away her image in the mirror, she poured in frankincense bath oil and let its spice revitalise her senses somewhat. She undressed right there, stripping down to just her briefs and walked back into the lounge. The oil lamp she lit emitted the sweet scent of honeysuckle to make the flat seem cosier. She began to unwind at last.

A box was on the bed as she opened the bedroom door.

She looked at the strange box. Panic seized her mind. _Someone had been in here_!

They still might be…

She covered her breasts and ran to the cupboard, grabbing a robe and hurriedly putting it on.

The box was a shade of ebony with a dark bow held by black leather bindings. She approached it cautiously, expecting someone to appear as if from nowhere. She wondered briefly why she was not gasping with the asthma attack that she'd anticipated.

Her hands trembled as she undid the bindings, fumbled with the small rococo lock on the front. She lifted the lid slowly.

The black silk of the bow extended inside to cushion the contents. There were two scrolls, bound with what looked like dried blood. She took them out first and placed them on the bed. Inset into the box was a knife. By its side a small vial of dark red liquid.

She took out the knife and held it up. The blade twisted around itself, the sharpened edge coiling before coming to a deadly point. The handle felt like reptile scales in her palm, in its head was imbedded a small gemstone; an opal.

There was a banging on the door.

She turned around clasping the blade to her chest. The knocking continued.

She replaced the knife and went to her bedside cabinet, retrieving the pistol she hid there. 'Just a minute!' she called.

Stopping the bath first, she padded slowly to the doorway.

She released the safety catch on the weapon and leaned forward to the spy hole in the door.

A large hand dragged her from behind and back into the room, a pad of chemicals was clasped around her mouth.

Fenris levered the trapdoor upwards against the wind and climbed up onto the roof. The singing had stopped. Marian clambered up, immediately looking around.

The drab townscape of Sector 2 lay fitfully around them, most of the windows in the nearby buildings were dark.

A youth came forward from behind a crumbling chimney flanche, his features were smooth and boyish in the moonlight, his long, dark hair swaying slightly.

'You're gorgeous.' Marian said staring.

'My name is Hollywood, you must be the newcomers.' Hollywood smiled offering his hand to Fenris.

'I am Fenris, Get of Fey.' Fenris said eyeing the boy suspiciously.

Hollywood nodded and shook Marian's palm.

'You're _gorgeous_.' she said again.

'There's a place on 500 called Club Morticia, it's on the skirts of Central.' Hollywood said as they all sat on the roof taking in the not-too-impressive view.

'We must hunt.' said Fenris.

Marian lifted her head from Hollywoods' shoulder, 'Woh, hang on there Cap'n Ahab. Hunting in the city isn't the same as out there in the sticks. You don't just get that big whip out of yours and reel in tonight's supper!'

Fenris scowled at her, 'I have been trained in seduction techniques.' he said proudly.

Marian burst out laughing.

Hollywood stood up, 'Listen its okay, I have some vessels I don't mind sharing.'

'Nah, that's no fun!' Marian laughed, 'Its gotta be a nightclub. Anyway I want to see Romeo here in action!' she giggled.

Fenris leapt up, his eyes blazing red, 'Don't mock me, woman!'

'I'm off anyway.' Hollywood said half-attempting to diffuse the situation.

Marian jumped up and followed Hollywood down the ladders, she patted her thigh towards Fenris, '_Heel_, boy!' she teased.

Fenris growled, bordering dangerously on the edge of frenzy.

Assimilate. That's what Hollow had said. He focused on calming down and ignoring the gypsy who disappeared down the hatch.

He gave the Sector one last look and smiled. Tonight they would find out how a _real_ hunter stalked.


End file.
